Padme's Perfect Peach
by Citizenjess
Summary: How does Anakin love Padme? Watch him ruminate on it in the most cliched and euphemism filled way possible.


My ultimate goal was initially to write serious Anakin/Padme porn which would both attempt to explain the Passionate Romance that George Lucas assured us was there even though it just looked like a bunch of bad dialogue and shots of Padme looking out windows to me, and also to write het smut that didn't make me titter because it is impossible to write about vaginas in a non-funny way. I failed at both, obviously, and as a result, you get this.

Summary: How does Anakin love Padme, let him ruminate on it in the most clich d way possible. Rated R for descriptions of naughty bits and general awfulness (read: don't read this).

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**Padme's Perfect Peach**

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a little slave boy named Anakin. He loved to fly more than anything, and hated sand even more than that. He lived on the planet Tatooine and sometimes had bad dreams about committing cultural genocide, but don't worry about that now.

One day, he saw a girl standing in the junk shop where he worked for no pay and terrible employee benefits. None of that mattered to him at this point, however, because she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen! "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he told her happily.

She smiled at him and patted him on the head, like his mother did, except more in a future-secret-wife kind of way. "You're cute," she told him, "but I'm a queen and you're not very tall. It would never work."

"I can wait," Anakin vowed. So he helped the queen save her planet and then grew up a little not a lot, because he was still pretty whiny and generally narrow-minded when it came to things like politics, which would really not be very beneficial to him down the road but I'm getting ahead of myself and they met again.

This time, the girl whose name was Padme, which is actually not terribly important in the scheme of things but which would give me some other way of referring to her besides "the girl" was a Senator, and seeked the Jedi out for protection against suspicious assassins who were suspiciously trying to kill her. It was very suspicious. "Hey, I'm a Jedi," Anakin realized. And really, he was merely a Jedi apprentice, and his habit of routinely trying to either skirt authority and place himself on a pedestal was a pretty big clue that he'd turn to the Dark Side someday, but really, don't think too much about that for now.

Padme was still beautiful, and now that Anakin was taller and had lower-hanging testicles, he was ready to do the deed with her. "Let's have sex," he told her after spending the day schmoozing her up and doing cutely stupid things like falling off giant ticks just so she'd run over to him and shove her boobs in his face. "Then we can start a secret romance and you can get mysteriously pregnant and nobody will figure it out ever."

Padme looked at him the way his Master Obi-Wan sometimes did when Anakin left his lightsaber somewhere or forgot to flush. "You may have balls," she told him, "but we can't. I'm sorry. I mean, I know that one minute I'm just standing here practically begging you to do me right on this balcony and the next I'm a cold fish, but I think we'd both end up compromising our figurative positions in society to get into a literal horizontal one together." Padme was very smart. That was why she was a Senator.

"We could do it standing up," Anakin suggested weakly. Padme shook her head. He knew that she was closing herself off to him, so he dug deep into the recesses of his mind for something cute and innocent that he would have said to woo her when he was nine. "You have a great vagina," he enthused.

Padme looked uncomfortable. "Don't say things like that to me, it makes me uncomfortable," she told him.

Then there was a series of unfortunate events involving Anakin murdering a shitload of Tusken sand people and Anakin and Padme getting captured trying to save a captured Obi-Wan, and their situation changed quite a bit. "Now do you love me, since we're about to be executed?" Anakin asked Padme.

Padme gazed lovingly at him like she was a completely different person than an hour before. "If our hands weren't tied, I would do you right in this cart," she vowed.

Anakin smiled. "If we somehow face down impossible odds, I'm going to hold you to that," he told her. And he did, minus a couple of details like the fact that they actually did it in Padme's bedroom back on her home planet of Naboo (lying down, for what it was worth) and not in a cart, after all. But the end result was still pretty much the same.

"Have you ever done this before?" Padme asked Anakin, who had taken off his pants. She decided that he wasn't all that terrible to look at and stripped off her own clothing.

Anakin goggled at her. "You're so beautifully beautiful," he told her. She let him reach out and touch her breasts, with his real hand only and not his metal one because she complained that it was too cold, which were soft and firm like two well-formed breakfast pastries shaped like tiny mountains. "You can like, touch me and stuff, too," he hinted, gesturing with his manly manhood by rubbing it very discreetly against her leg.

Padme looked kind of irritated, but Anakin was very horny and wasn't really paying attention. "I'm a Senator," she told him in that no-nonsense Senatorial tone that made his fleshy lightsaber harder than his actual lightsaber, which was sitting on top of the pile of clothing he'd discarded and thrown on the ground. "And you're a Jedi, sent here to provide a service to me." She looked at him pointedly.

"Okay," Anakin said, still clueless. Padme sighed and shoved him onto his back; technically, Anakin could have broken her in half with nary an effort, or even Force-choked her, but that would come later. For now, he liked the way it felt to have Padme straddling him with her soft, girlish thighs and her hair still up in a Senatorial 'do, and decided to go with whatever she wanted. "So what do you want?" he asked.

Padme's legs were pretty much around his neck at this point. "Duh," she told him. "I want you to lap up my succulent juices as my bosom heaves wildly and I moan like a bantha in heat. I want your mouth mining for my secret pearl." Being a Senator was sometimes lonely, and as a result, Padme had read a lot of Alderaan romance novels.

Anakin still looked confused, however. "Can you be more specific?" he asked politely.

Padme grabbed his head by his Jedi apprentice braid which is really the entire reason Jedi apprentices have them and shoved his nose against her twat. "Eat me out," she barked.

Anakin inhaled deeply her womanly scent. "Well, why didn't you just say so?" he told her, and began plunging his tongue into her perfect peach. Padme fondled herself and rocked back and forth on top of Anakin's face, which would have bothered a lesser man, but he was a Jedi (apprentice) and as such had great breath control. It took a long time, and even Anakin's Jedi tongue was starting to get tired eventually. "Are you almost there?" he asked her.

She glared down at him, kind of like the way she'd glared at Viceroy Gunray when he'd tried to get her to sign a treaty to benefit the Trade Federation, except not with as much unbridled lust, because Viceroy Gunray was even shorter now than Anakin had been when he was just a kid, and also scaly, which was sort of gross to think about in any kind of sexual manner. "I suppose that's good enough," she said. "I'm oiled up now, so I guess we can copulate."

"Oh, goody," Anakin enthused. He began to reposition himself but Padme held him in place while she slid down his prone body, and Anakin decided this was the easiest way to exercise that he'd ever seen. He was totally going to ask his Master about integrating something like this into his daily training regimen when he got back to Coruscant. But now he was on Naboo and Padme was wrapping her soft pink petals around his throbbing love sausage, and Obi-Wan always told him he should try to live in the moment, so he concentrated on that instead.

Anakin let Padme rock back and forth however much she pleased once again, jutting his hips up a few times, which she seemed to enjoy. "You can touch me," she told him in what sounded more like an order. But Anakin didn't care because that meant that he could touch her breasts again. He decided he really liked them, almost more than he liked flying, and possibly as much as he hated sand and Tusken raiders, but not really.

Anakin ejaculated first, which Padme sighed and told him was pretty much the natural order of things. Then she let him cuddle her and told him that he wasn't that bad, she supposed, for a teenager, and he fell asleep against her soft, dainty boobies.

* * *

Life was perfect, except for the fact that the Clone Wars were raging everywhere except on Naboo, and so Anakin was always off fighting people with his real lightsaber and hardly ever got to use his fleshy one with Padme. Sometimes, he substituted with Obi-Wan, but his Master didn't have quite as nice of breasts, and never liked to cuddle, though he never complained about Anakin coming first either, so it was actually a pretty even trade-off.

One time, he left Padme for four months to go fight things in the Outer Rim, which was rather boring and kind of a waste of his Jedi talents, but they were at war and the Jedi Council didn't trust Anakin because he was prone to committing mass homicide and having secret wives and spending suspicious amounts of time with Chancellor Palpatine, who had always struck the Council as somewhat evil, but all of this was minor to the fact that Anakin came back to Coruscant to find Padme pregnant. "I'm pregnant," she told him, and her big, beautiful, brown orbs were shining with a Heavenly light that could only belong to an angel, which Anakin was pretty sure she was.

"Wow, really?" he asked. "Who's the father?"

Padme kicked him discreetly in the nads. "You are, you dolt," she hissed, looking angrily at him like she did the time he accidentally forgot to tell her that he was about to orgasm when she was sucking his lengthy lollipop. "It was bound to happen eventually, since you refuse to use contraception."

"Wait, so like, when Mini-Anakin plays with Little-Padme, you can make babies that way?" Anakin wondered why Obi-Wan had never mentioned this. And then he realized that he and Obi-Wan didn't really talk much about anything except war and how the Chancellor was probably a Sith Lord, even though he actually liked the Chancellor because his office was red, which was Anakin's favorite color, and also since he always had fresh cookies available when Anakin stopped by. He decided he wanted to talk about this with somebody, too, and so went and stopped by.

The Chancellor smiled at him in the softly sinister way he always did, which Anakin hadn't ever really noticed before because they were really good cookies. "Ah, Anakin," the esteemed Chancellor Palpatine who was also referred to simply as "the Chancellor" and would eventually be known as "the Emperor", but try not to worry about that too much at this point greeted him. "Come in, sit down. There's oatmeal today." He gestured at the plate of cookies that had been casually replenished just before Anakin had arrived, almost as if Palpatine had a holo-recorder set up in Anakin's private chambers or something.

So Anakin sat down and caught Palpatine up on his life, including but not limited to how Padme didn't put out anymore now that she spent her days knitting baby socks and staring out windows and crying a lot, and how Obi-Wan didn't put out as much as he used to, and how Mini-Anakin was actually kind of lonely, and how he missed his mother and still hated sand and by the way, are there anymore sugar cookies left because these are delicious.

Palpatine listened carefully like he always did, as if he were keeping careful record of Anakin's every word to use as a way to bolster his position on things like politics and the Dark Side. "It's unfortunate really that the Jedi look so unfavorably on things like extra-Orderly affairs and children," he mused, patting Anakin's hand. "On the other hand," he tossed off with well-practiced casualty. "If you were to, say, become the apprentice of a Sith Lord, hypothetically, of course, you would be able to keep Padme and all of the employee benefits you enjoy as a Jedi. I mean, you know, just for your information," he said, not in a hinting sort of way at all.

Anakin's brow furrowed. "Aren't the Sith like, evil or something?" he asked. "I mean, it'd sort of be a conflict of interests, I think."

Palpatine waved his hand airily. "Anakin, my personal philosophy on life is this: you can't make a universe bow to your every whim without breaking a few thousand skulls and possibly eliminating some of its peskier civilizations altogether." He paused for dramatic effect and took a sip of his tea. "I mean, you want your baby to grow up in a peaceful Empire, don't you?"

"Well," Anakin said slowly, "I guess so." He thought about this a little longer. "So hypothetically," he prompted, trying to sound casual the way Palpatine had and failing miserably, "if I were to possibly want to become a Sith apprentice, how would I go about like, doing this?"

"I'm glad you asked," Palpatine beamed. He reached into one of the drawers in the expansive desk he sat behind and fumbled around for a moment or so, finally coming up with a slim book, which he handed to Anakin. "Read this," he instructed him, gesturing to the copy of 'So You Want to be a Sith Lord's Apprentice', "and do exactly what it says. Then after you're strong enough in the Dark Side, a Sith Master will find you."

"I can't read," Anakin said unhappily.

Palpatine stifled a sigh, merely patting Anakin's shoulder comfortingly. "In that case," he said kindly, "all you have to do is lead a clone army into the Jedi Temple and kill every organic being you find there. Then travel to a remote lava planet and fight your Master Obi-Wan to the death, because I never liked him very much. That's it."

"And then I'll be able to have lots of sex with Padme and make lots of baby Sith Lords?" Anakin asked hopefully.

Palpatine smiled benevolently. "Yes," he assured the boy. "Unless you accidentally choke your wife to death in a fit of anger and have all of your limbs cut off and your genitalia burned to a crisp, and then your kids would grow up as part of the Rebellion against the Empire you essentially gave everything you ever loved up for and totally hate you, of course."

"Oh, that would be unfortunate," Anakin murmured.

"Go, Lord Vader," Palpatine said, looking pleased at having convinced him to do his bidding, because it really would have sucked to have secretly invested this much time and energy into him and have the kid go all noble and Jedi-loving on him at the last minute. "Destroy the Jedi," he asserted. "Bring balance to the Force. And all that good shit."

"... who?" Anakin asked.

"Just go with it, okay?" Palpatine waved his hands at him, which were gnarled and burned from an exciting battle with the now-deceased Jedi Master, Mace Windu, which you don't really need to worry about. "Now, shoo," the Emperor-Chancellor-Palpatine-whateverthefuck commanded him. "Be a good Sith Lord and kill things."

"Yes, okay," Anakin said, marching out of Palpatine's office with purpose and newfound authority. He would do what was bidden of him, would destroy the Jedi and teach his and Padme's new son or daughter how to properly wield a lightsaber and even how to spit on people from balconies. He would become the best Sith apprentice ever, he vowed to himself, and eventually, he'd even find out who the Sith Lord that Palpatine knew was.

It was going to be a good day, he thought.

* * *

Years later, after the Empire had risen and fallen and Anakin had been reborn and then killed again, he found himself watching festivities to celebrate his demise and felt kind of weird being happy about it. "Welcome back, Anakin," Obi-Wan greeted him.

"Thanks." Anakin studied himself for a moment. "There's not a way to like, choose which color of ghost we can appear as or anything, is there? Red would be much more exciting. Just out of curiosity," he said hastily, withering under Obi-Wan's suspicious gaze. His old Master shook his head, and Anakin sighed and nodded.

"So," he said a moment later, never quite having been able to master sounding casual. "Where's Padme? I mean, I guess it'd be sort of awkward seeing her again after parting on such weird terms and all, but still."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "There's not much to tell," he explained. "After she died, she and that handmaiden of hers formed a singing duo called TaTuine. They shaved their heads and travel around the after-realm, performing at grass roots venues. It's a definite change from her Senatorial duties," he noted, "but last I heard, she was having a good time."

"That's wonderful," Anakin said warmly. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and he glanced down at himself again. "So you want to go get a room or something?" he finally said. "Now that I'm all whole and dead and stuff, we don't have to worry about the roboclaw anymore. Padme always hated it when it touched her," he said ruefully.

Obi-Wan cocked his head. "I'm game," he said. They meandered off into the woods together, away from Anakin's son doing shots and his daughter making out bawdily with her boyfriend behind a tree. "Though to be honest," his old Master said, reaching down to squeeze said previously-robotic hand, "it never really bothered me, so long as you wore your glove."


End file.
